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I am a New Englander, a Southerner, my own woman, Rex's daughter, a quivering mass of contradictions. Nothing here means any more or less than you want it to mean. This and a buck fifty will get you coffee. But it's me. And I really like that.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

‎1. If Jesus did not mention a subject, it cannot be essential to his teachings. 2. You are not being persecuted when prevented from persecuting others. 3. Truth isn’t like wine that gets better with age. It’s more like manna you must recognize wherever you are and whoever you are with. 4. You cannot call it “special rights” when someone asks for the same rights you have. 5. It is no longer your personal religious view if you’re bothering someone else. 6. Marriage is a civil ceremony, which means it’s a civil right. 7. If how someone stimulates the public nerve has become the needle to your moral compass, you are the one who is lost. 8. To condemn homosexuality, you must use parts of the Bible you don’t yourself obey. Anyone who obeyed every part of Leviticus would rightly be put in prison. 9. If we do not do the right thing in our day, our grandchildren will look at us with same embarrassment we look at racist grandparents. 10. When Jesus forbade judging, that included you.

These are good for all of us, Christian or not. Let's keep it in mind, shall we?

Those are Gamina Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you a peaceful, accepting, inclusive, just society ~ and a cup of coffee.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Lithus and I have started collecting stories from the streets of the Quarter. In one single night, we were captivated by...

* the weeping woman sitting on the sidewalk with the obviously frustrated and over it man standing over her whispering "look, I really don't care; come on already"

* the (possibly) drunk reader arguing with the (definitely) drunk musician about how this is her corner and he has set up too close to her and his music is keeping her from being able to hear (???) her readings properly (which kind of makes sense and kind of doesn't)

* the handful of locals who passed us and exchanged the "locals' nod", which makes me feel really good

* the plethora of people our age and older, dressed to the Nines and staggering anyway

* the young man leaning on one of the lightposts here in the Alley, muttering "I just need food. If I could just eat something" but being far too drunk to make that possible right now

* the group of guys who were crossing against the light, coming toward me (it went like this) Leader (to car not stopping): Are you gonna stop? Are you gonna stop? Jeez assho... Me (crossing behind the car, pointing to the green light we are all crossing against: He's got the green light, dude. Leader (to car): Nevermind!!!! I'm the asshole, not you! Leader's Friend (to me): He's car-blind! How can you be so mean? Leader (to no one in particular): I thought it was a stop sign! I'm the asshole here!

Monday, April 16, 2012

So, we bought it. It's perfect for a hot summer in New Orleans. Light and cool, yet fashionable and city-stylish. Perfect. We were scheduled to be traveling a few days later, and lucky enough to be flying first class all the way from Spokane to NOLA. He asked me to wear it; I loved the idea and agreed. At which point, the anxiety started. See, when we travel for his work, we lug and haul and move and lift. I carry a (truly magnificent) leather backpack instead of a purse. I get my hair out of my way, and deal in pure functionality. Standing and pointing isn't exactly part of the equation. And I didn't want to ruin my beautiful new dress. But Lithus really makes very few requests, and he had made this one. But it wasn't efficient. But... But... *sigh* When I explained the situation, he managed not to laugh at me or pat me on the head or get annoyed. Instead, simply said "Pobble, why don't you wear your suit? You can wear the dress when we go on our picnic." And just like that, I stopped being a crazy woman and regained my sanity. Who knew a summer dress could be so traumatic???

I've said it before, I'll say it again. Glinda was right. And for the first time in a long time ~ ever, maybe? ~ home isn't Boston. It isn't even New England. Of course, I've lived elsewhere. Many times. But they've never been home. NOLA is home, in the same way Boston is home. We're looking at other apartments. Living above a restaurant with poor ventilation is getting old ~ as is sharing their hot water. Screaming tourists all night, every weekend, outside of poorly insulated and completely not sound-proofed windows, also getting old. The specific apartment may (will) change. But I can't imagine living anywhere else right now. In another year? We'll see. Right now? No thanks. It feels to good to be home.

Saturday, April 07, 2012

As I've written here before, I am really, really trying to stay away from politics these days. Have you seen the attacks on women? On people of color? On LGBTQ people? It's getting crazy, and I refuse to go crazy right along with it all. That being said, every so often, I have to blog something. Like the reason I'm not wearing a Trayvon Martin hoodie. Or this:

Thursday, April 05, 2012

Four years ago, there was an accident. It changed so much. Our friend died. Our present changed. Our futures changed. We are still trying to come back from this one accident. Some never will.

Two years ago, the NTSB investigation found that the aircraft was overweight and that the pilots were working with poor information. There's recently been a trial, as well, because there was question about who knew what and when.

The jury found the helicopter manufacturer, Sikorsky and the Carson Helicopters were partially at fault, but put most of the blame on G.E., finding it 57% responsible. The jury awarded $28.4 million to the estate of (Roark). Surviving pilot (Bill) was awarded $37 million, and his wife, $4.3 million dollars.~ Nigel Duara Associated Press, Wednesday, March 28, 2012

And there was vindication: "They're heroes," said plaintiff's attorney Greg Anderson of the pilots, (Bill) and (Roark). "They saved as many people as they could. They have been pilloried before this."

Lithus hasn't read the reports or watched the latest news videos. He can't, doesn't want to. And I understand. Nothing has really changed. Oh, the families have a shitload of money, and that will make life easier on some levels. I won't argue that. But nothing has really changed. For me, though, it is... good. Somehow.

Tuesday, April 03, 2012

Lithus and I are grateful to have found each other. We both bring a lot to the table, in our own rights. However, we are also grateful to have found each other because we have some crazy-ass exes. Both have reared their heads just in the last 72 hours.

His Ex: Has spent years being crazy and mean ~ then last winter asked Lithus to come (on our dime) to the town where she lives and be her handyman with the honey-do list around the house so she could get it sold. Nope. Didn't happen. Fast forward to last Sunday. Lithus has an early day, we are in the area, we go to have dinner with Timber. Who texts us as we are getting close that we have to park away from the house because his mom is freaking out, doesn't want us at the house even just to pick up Timber, doesn't understand why we have to pick him up there. Honestly, we take this with a grain of salt, because it could've gone down this way, but it might've been Timber hunting up some drama on his own. But it is not ~ notnotnot ~ an impossibility. Then just today, Lithus gets his yearly credit report and funniest thing, has an account with Lowes. That has almost $1700 on it. Huh. So he shoots off a text to his ex. Why yes, yes she does have an account there and, oh my goodness, is his name on it, too? How did that ever happen? She will certainly make sure his name gets taken off of it. ... ... ... Really?????

My Ex: Shows up every so often. It's been long enough now that I thought maybe he wouldn't show back up again. After all, the last time I heard from him was a fwd while we were in Galena. The last time I got an "I miss you" email was shortly before Lithus and I got married. So, it's been awhile. Guess who emailed me? He found my professional site over on Facebook and emailed me there. Said he's been sober for three years, in a committed relationship for two, and is doing well. I told him I was pleased to hear it, asked him not to email me there again because it is a professional site, not a personal one, and assured him I was well, too. Then, I admit it, my curiosity got the better of me and I went to the Facebook account affiliated with the email. It's locked down, and only friends can see it. But at the top of his friends list (I didn't go looking for it) was another name, with the same picture, another known nickname ~ and the same tattoo I know he has on his back. And this is the facebook account that is very active, has pictures of him and his lady friend, where he was just a few days ago. Which leads me to extrapolate that he is going behind said lady friend's back to get in touch with me. I admit, it's a guess. But it's a damn well educated guess. ... ... ... Really????? But he "misses his friend." ... ... ... REALLY?????

Lithus and I have laughed, shaken our heads, and sighed deeply over the craziness ~ grateful to be free of it. And oh so very happy to be us.